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O’er field and hedge-row, by bank and stream. 
Her path we trace in the rainbow gleam 
Of the myiiad flowers, that now unfold 
Their ti-easures of silver and burnished gold; 
And, queen of wild buds, the hyacinth blue 
Rivals the skies with as bright a hue; 
And the hedge-geranium, fair and brief. 
Twines ’mid each gay group her fi-agi’ant leaf. 
And star-like blossoms, that blushing, peep 
Down sheltered lane and o’er rocky steep. 
List! —’twas the nightingale’s note ye heard : 
To the fairest flower sings the sweetest bird. 
For the earliest rose has opened, to fling 
Her fragrant breath on the breeze of Spring. 
Few trees are so magnificent in foliage as the horse-chestnut, 
with its lai'ge fan-like leaves, far more resembling those of some 
tropical plant than the garb of a forest free in climes like ours; 
but when these are crowned with its pyramids of flowers, so 
splendid in their distant effect, and so exquisitely modelled and 
pencilled when we gather and examine their fair forms — is it 
not then the pride of the landscape ? If the oak—the true 
British oak—be the forest king, let us give him at least a 
pai’tner in his majesty; and let the chestnut, whose noble 
head is crowned by the hand of Spring with a regal diadem, 
gemmed with pyramids of pearly, and golden, and ruby flowers— 
let her be queen of the woods in bonny England: and while 
we listen to the musical hum of the bees, as they load 
